SPN Movie Verse Pt 4: Amas Veritas
by Blue-Five
Summary: Practical Magic AU - Dean and Sam are warlocks from the Winchester line. Can they find love before the Winchester curse leaves them alone forever? (Dean/Castiel)
1. History Lessons & Love Spells

**DISCLAIMER:** This is a work of fiction using characters/scenes from the Supernatural/Practical magic universes. I do not claim any ownership. This work is solely for entertainment purposes and is not considered film or tv canon (not by a long shot).

* * *

Robert Singer sat in his most comfortable chair and looked at the two boys on the floor in front of him. The oldest, an eight-year-old with dark blonde hair and hazel eyes, was named Dean. The younger, by four years, was Sam and his hair was chestnut. Singer regarded them sadly. Sam was curled up with his head in his brother's lap and Dean had a hand protectively on his brother's shoulder. At such young ages they'd been saddled with the grief and pain of losing both parents within a month of one another. Now they wanted to understand _why. _

Looking up, he watched his wife walk into the room. Ellen Harvelle-Singer was a woman who'd had her own tragedies in life — her husband had died leaving her with a two-year old girl named Joanna who was asleep upstairs. Friends for most of their lives, Ellen and Bill had been Bobby's main source of support when his wife Karen had died. It seemed only natural that they would be drawn to one another when Bill died.

Ellen pulled over a chair and sat near Bobby. He reached over, took her hand and gave it a squeeze. They were probably the only ones who _could_ explain things to the children mourning in front of them. Bobby sighed. He got up and retrieved an old book from his overflowing shelves. Opening it to a certain page, he set it down in front of Sam and Dean. It showed a drawing of a hanging in the late 1600s … the inscription said, "Jonathan Winchestere, condemnede warlocke".

"It's been over 300 years, boys, since your ancestor John Winchester was breathin' but that ain't stopped his curse," Bobby said.

Dean looked down at the picture and made a surprised sound.

"He looks like … he looks like Dad," Dean whispered.

Ellen nodded. "All of the Winchester men tend to take after Jonathan — the bloodline is a strong one."

"We don't," Sam pointed out in a soft voice.

"No, you don't, that's right, Sam," Bobby agreed. For only four, Sam was smart as a whip. "Maybe there's an end to things we don't know about, but this man … this is the _why_ you wanted to know."

Dean looked down at the drawing. The man was standing barefoot on a gallows with a white shirt billowing around him. Dean vaguely remembered that his ancestors settled in a coastal town — the man was looking out across the sea and dark storm clouds seemed to be gathering in the distance.

"Jonathan Winchester was like all the Winchester men — good-lookin son of a bitch. He tended to love 'em and leave 'em which was bad considering the husbands of the women he seduced were the hangin' committee," Bobby said with a chuckle. "But ya see, boys … John had a gift … he had the honest gift of magic. It's rare enough even in a bloodline like ya'lls."

Dean frowned. "Is that why everyone hates us?"

"Yes — "Bobby began.

"_No_," Ellen broke in. "They don't hate you, Dean. You just … well those of us that practice … we tend to make them a little nervous."

"Yeah … and you Winchesters … well, startin' with John, you never did do anything the easy way," Bobby said with a sideways glance at his wife. "You are the latest in a long list of warlocks."

Sam pressed closer to his brother. He'd grown up knowing he was different but never understanding exactly why.

"John's ability is what saved his life," Ellen said. "He leapt off that gallow platform before they could hang him. The rope broke and he was free and clear."

Bobby picked up the book and closed it. "He ran to collect the one woman he loved more than all others so they could escape and flee together. He learned that she was the one who betrayed him and it shattered his heart."

Ellen continued. "Jonathan cast a spell on himself so that he would never again know the agony of love," She explained. "But the longer it went on, the spell turned into a curse on anyone who would dare to love a Winchester. He met a woman and got twins on her — both boys and it's been that way ever since. Always two boys — no more, no less."

"But dad …" Dean said, confused.

"Your dad had a brother that died only hours after he was born but there were still two born," Bobby said.

"Is that why mommy died?" Sam asked, tears brimming in his eyes. "Because daddy was cursed?"

"Yes," Ellen said quietly. "Your father heard the death watch beetle all day … he knew when you hear that … the one you love is doomed to die."

Bobby sighed. He would likely never forget the mad look in John's eyes following the fire that took Mary from him. Particularly since he'd inadvertently started it tearing the house apart trying to find and kill the beetle. It had taken less than three weeks for John to drink himself to death after that. Bobby looked down at the two very sad boys.

"But that's why you two are here and why you'll stay here for as long as you want," Ellen said softly. "Here is home and we'll do our damnedest to make it safe for you two."

Bobby agreed with a grunt. "But boys … there will always be thick-headed idjits no matter where you are. I reckon you'll be the center of attention more than you want, but just remember — you're different and that isn't a bad thing. Don't take that anger and use it against those that don't understand."

"Besides," Ellen said with a smile. "Where else can you have grilled cheese and pickles in the middle of the night?"

Both boys giggled in spite of themselves and after some urging, they went to take baths while she made them the promised sandwiches. Coming down the stairs, Dean and Sam curled up on the couches with their meals and crunched the homemade bread and butter pickle slices Ellen brought from her pantry.

"Hey, Dean … help me with this fire, boy. It's gonna be a cool night and even worse tomorrow." Bobby asked.

Dean walked over and frowned. "I don't know how."

"Sure you do," Bobby assured him. "You just think warm thoughts and you blow right here when I tell ya." Dean crouched down and looked at the pile of logs and kindling Bobby was preparing. When Bobby pointed, Dean blew gently at the paper. His mind, however, turned involuntarily to the fire that had killed his mother and a tall flame licked up the wood, startling both Bobby and Dean.

"Whoa!" Bobby barked, quickly poking the pile and spreading out the fire. He grinned at Dean whose eyes were wide. "Boy, you got the gift, that's for sure."

Sam frowned over at them. "What about me?"

Sam was only four but he knew already that his brother was capable of things he simply could not do — moving things and now starting fires. He felt left out until Ellen spoke.

"Samuel Winchester, you are going to be magnificent when you grow up so just wipe that sour look off yer face," Ellen said and Sam smiled shyly. "You're the smartest thing I've ever seen, little man and I'm sure you'll do just fine."

Sam opened his mouth to answer but Dean tackled him back onto the couch.

"Yeah, Sammy … you're gonna be a great big bookworm!"

Bobby and Ellen watched fondly as the boys wrestled with one another. They didn't miss how Dean almost always let Sam come out on top in a mock victory nor how the game ended when Sam slid off the couch and landed with a hard thump to the head. Dean was immediately by his brother's side helping him up and teasing him about leaving a dent in Bobby's floor then laughing when Sam looked for it.

Ellen glanced over at Bobby and he smiled back. John Winchester had left his boys alone in a very big world but Bobby knew as long as they loved each other, things would work out one way or another.

A knock at the door silenced them all as Bobby got up and peered out onto the porch. He sighed.

"Boys, take your sandwiches and go upstairs. Don't wake up Jo."

Dean helped Sam take his plate up but they didn't go all the way up to the next floor. Instead, they lingered and peeked out at the events unfolding in the living room while munching on pickles.

A thin, harried looking woman sat down on the couch, babbling about wanting someone to fall in love with her. Dean winced at the pain in her voice as she whined, "I want him so so much I can't think about anything else! I don't sleep … he-he has to leave his wife. He has to leave her _now._"

Ellen glanced down at the spell in the thick book Bobby had laid out on his desk.

"Maybe you should look for someone that'll be better for you," Ellen offered.

The woman stared at Ellen as if she'd grown a third head. "No … no there isn't anyone else … I don't _want_ anyone else. Why the hell would I come here?!"

Bobby growled, "Just take the cash, Ellen."

Ellen took the roll of bills the woman handed her and gave her small, thin knife. Bobby came over with a small rabbit squirming in his hands. He hated the spells that required blood to be spilled. They were the most powerful and generally the most apt to twist into something the person never wanted.

"I want him to want me so much that he can't stand it," the woman said as she drove the small blade into the tiny breast.

Dean blinked as Sam ducked his head against his brother's shoulder. He shook his head slowly. He'd watched his father disappear before his eyes after his mother had died. He drank and drank until there was nothing left of the man John Winchester. And all the while, he wept for his "Mary". His agony had been like the knife in the rabbit's heart to Dean.

"I don't ever wanna fall in love, Sammy." Dean whispered.

Sam looked up and watched as Ellen and Bobby completed the spell.

"Me either, Dean," Sam muttered. "I just wanna be normal."

* * *

Later, after the woman had departed, kissing a photo of the man she wanted and smiling with something like a manic glee in her eyes, Dean went out into the salvage yard that Bobby kept behind his repair shop. He found a discarded hubcap and turned it to form a bowl for his task. Sam came running up to him.

"Dean! What're you doing out here?"

"Shut up, Sammy! I don't want Bobby 'n Ellen to know!" Dean hissed.

Sam fell silent, abashed. Dean sighed and pulled off his coat to put around Sam.

"You can watch but don't you dare tell anyone, ok?"

"I won't, Dean," Sam said, his whispers belying his excitement.

Dean nodded and walked farther into the salvage yard. He knew, somehow, that he would be able to _feel_ what was required for the spell he wanted. He had the tingle he often got before he was able to make a pencil float or a fly buzz around in a circle to amuse a bored little brother. Looking at the moonlit ground, Dean spotted a small wire leading to a defunct speaker. He pulled it loose and dropped it into the hubcap.

"He'll be able to hear my call a mile away," Dean said softly.

A broken cassette relinquished a small piece of tape to the spell.

"He'll love the same band I do."

Walking around the stacks of cars, Dean spied a feather balancing on the rusted hood of a vehicle.

"He'll have wings," Dean said. Sam giggled.

"Wings? Who has wings?"

"Shh, Sammy, I'm not done," Dean said with a smile.

Looking around, he saw a circular piece of plastic from a rear taillight cover.

"He'll be able to flip strawberry pancakes in the air without missing." Dean said with a giggle to match Sam's. He knew his little brother loved pancakes.

Dean looked at the ground and picked up a few bits of gravel.

"He'll have a rocky voice."

Sam walked along and then pointed at a broken decal from a Thunderbird. Dean nodded and snapped off the "t".

"His favorite day will be Thursday."

Dean paused. He needed one more thing to finish the spell and wasn't sure what it should be. Then he saw two glinting pieces of glass on the ground. The moonlight made them both dark, but Dean could just make out a shard of green glass and one of blue.

"He'll have one blue eye and one green eye."

Sam peered into the hub well at the items gathered there. "What'll all this do, Dean?"

"It's a love spell called "Amas Veritas"," Dean explained. "You call out the things you want in your true love and then the spell makes it happen."

Sam frowned. "But I thought you didn't want to fall in love."

"I don't. The guy I just wished for doesn't exist. If he doesn't exist, I'll never die of a broken heart." Dean said.

Sam nodded but then he frowned. "You like guys?"

Dean shrugged. "I dunno. But that just means it'll be even _less_ likely to happen. Now be quiet, I gotta concentrate."

Sam stood just behind his older brother and watched as Dean looked intently at the small collection of items in his hands. The moon was waning but Sam saw a whirlwind grow within the hubcap and spiral up into the air over them carrying with it the spell and then wafting it the far corners of the world. When they could no longer see any of the glinting items, Dean tossed the hubcap aside and raced his brother back into the house.

* * *

Fourteen years later, Dean stood morosely beside Sam with his hands jammed deep into his jacket pockets. "I feel like I'm never gonna see you again, Sammy."

Sam, who was well over six feet tall now, looked over at Dean. "Of course you are, Dean. I'm going to California, not Uruguay."

"Yeah … whatever … don't know why you couldn't learn to be a lawyer closer to home," Dean groused.

Sam chuckled. "Maybe because I _hate_ it here, Dean. I mean, come on — we're the town _freaks_! We're just … I just wanna go where my name doesn't make people show me the 'horns' to ward off evil."

Dean sighed. "Yeah, I know … but Stanford, Sammy?"

"Dean … you know I'll stay in touch. Hell, knowing our luck, we'll die on the same day or something."

Dean grimaced. "You swear?"

Sam looked at Dean and then shook his head. He held up his hand, palm out and showed it to Dean. A long jagged scar from a blood brothers ceremony stood out against his skin. Dean held up his own with a scar that mirrored Sam's.

"You and me, bro," Sam said. He clasped hands with Dean.

Dean pulled his little brother into a fierce hug. "I love you, bitch."

"I love you too, jerk."


	2. Betrayal & Bereavement

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction using characters/scenes from the Supernatural/Practical Magic universes. I do not claim any ownership. This work is solely for entertainment purposes and is not considered film or tv canon (not by a long shot).

* * *

Dean walked just behind Ellen and Bobby as they left the post office. He thumbed through one of his car magazines, looking up only when Ellen said, "Something from Sam!"

Dean snatched the postcard from Ellen and ran his eyes over and over each line, devouring everything. Sam was fine … buried in classwork and enjoying a distinctly magic-free life in California. Dean sighed.

"Damn I miss that kid," Dean said softly, looking down at the familiar scrawl.

Bobby and Ellen shared a look as the leaves of a nearby tree suddenly turned brown and fluttered to the ground, unnoticed by Dean. Bobby shook his head in amused disbelief. Dean's ability was buried but when it emerged, it was more powerful than anything Bobby had seen or read about in years.

"Maybe Sammy had it right," Dean said sadly. "Maybe I shoulda tried harder to be normal."

Ellen snorted. "Dean Winchester, _normal_ is relative and besides … what the world calls normal is not always a virtue."

"Yeah? Well, that's what I want anyway. Maybe Sam'd come home if things were … I dunno … _different_."

Bobby squeezed Dean's shoulder. "Boy, you look around you and you tell me half these _normal_ idjits are anywhere near as happy as they pretend to be."

Dean nodded absently. His attention had been speared by a lovely face walking in the other direction. Her hair was thick and curly; her skin was a fetching shade of mocha. Dean blinked. He didn't remember seeing her before. Those lips … he found himself wondering idly how they would taste — and then he tripped over the curb. Bobby's laughter followed him as he scrambled up and kept walking down the sidewalk with his face bright red. Ellen, however, watched the young woman in question as she continued down the sidewalk with a look back every now and again. Her smile was breathtaking.

* * *

Later that week, Dean was working beneath his car — a '67 black Impala hardtop he affectionately called 'Baby'. Bobby was under the hood of a truck, nervously fiddling with a belt while stealing glances at his watch.

_Any time now, Ellen … come on … come on … _Bobby thought impatiently.

Suddenly, Dean paused under the car and blinked. He had an overwhelming desire to … to what? To go downtown? And what? Dean didn't know but he knew he had to go and go _now_. Sliding out from under the car, he walked out of the garage without even glancing at Bobby.

"Bout damn time, you stubborn idjit," Bobby muttered.

Dean all but ran to downtown. Once there, he scanned the crowds moving down the sidewalk and then he saw her — oval face with bright beautiful eyes and those damnably kissable lips.

Cassie had been downtown at the farmer's market when the strangest urge overcame her and she drifted out to the sidewalk in a daze. Eyes roaming over the faces she saw every day, Cassie managed to zero in on the one visage she was hoping to see. He was tall, strongly built with hazel eyes and adorable freckles across the bridge of his nose — she didn't know his name, but she had an idea that she was going to be spending the rest of her life with him.

When they crashed together, they both knew they were never going to want to let the other go.

* * *

Dean yawned, looked at the blank email and then began to type.

_Sammy-_

_Today is our third anniversary, can you believe it? All I_ _ve got to show for it is the twins — who get more awesome by the day and a wife I swear I can't quit kissing._

_You gotta get your giant butt back here, you wouldn't believe it. No stones, no morons yelling things — everything is so normal I don't remember when it wasn't. Dude … I'm happy. Go figure._

_Dean_

* * *

_Dean—_

_Three years? I knew Cassie was good for you. I can't wait to see the boys again … they're probably huge by now. Hopefully they'll take after me in the height department._

_Me, I'm soaking up the sun and having a blast till graduation. It looks like maybe that internship will work out but I've got someone I want you to meet — her name is Madison. _

_Dean, she's incredible. She's amazing. You're going to love her. I know I do._

_Love, Sam_

* * *

Dean rolled his eyes. His giant emo brother was always describing whoever was his latest love in terms of 'amazing' and 'astounding' and 'incredible' - the adjectives had been the same starting with his girlfriend, Ruby. A few guys had figured into the mix — Dean and Sam had been raised to believe in love, not gender roles. But none of them had stayed and Dean didn't think this girl would either. Still, if she was the one, Dean would give her the benefit of the doubt. He'd had little positive to say about any of the others but love was love. You didn't choose it … it _found_ you.

Sam wanted a normal love that wasn't going to disappear under the Winchester curse. Dean felt bad some times that he'd found his one and only. After three glorious years, Dean felt like his own marriage had been crafted specifically for him alone. Cassie was as beautiful to him now as she had been the day they met. His twin sons — Caleb and Luke – were more precious to him than anything. Dark haired with his hazel eyes and a lighter version of their mother's skin, Dean had a feeling his boys were going to be lady-killers before long. He never allowed himself to imagine life without any of them. He couldn't. Everything was too perfect.

* * *

The day of the twins' seventh birthday dawned hot and clear. It was a great day filled with too much cake and beer. Dean groaned when he finally slid into bed and kissed Cassie goodnight. They were both going to pay for the party tomorrow. Dean had almost drifted off to sleep when he heard it — a faint squeaking like a mouse, but not — it ground against his ear. He swallowed hard and closed his eyes. The sound came again, clicking and squeaking in the still night air.

"No." Dean said firmly to the darkness. "No."

Dean fought to sleep for hours before it finally claimed him.

* * *

The next day while the twins were at school, Dean called Bobby to say he was sick and began stomping around his bedroom trying desperately to find the tiny little culprit that was threatening his entire life's happiness.

Cassie watched Dean nervously as he scrambled around the house, following a sound only he could hear. Finally, she could take no more and told him she was going to go to the grocery store. Dean only vaguely acknowledged her, he was too intent on finding the beetle he knew was scrabbling around under his floorboards. Dean kept pulling up the hardwood, his face a mask of panic and fear. Then the sound stopped. Dean knew his world was never going to be the same again.

* * *

Standing on Bobby and Ellen's porch, Dean swayed unsteadily. He'd been drinking most of the evening — Cassie had only been dead a day but Dean could already feel the rest of his life stretching out before him in a long stream of days filled with loneliness and pain. Bobby opened the door and regarded the elder Winchester with eyes red and full of grief.

"Dean … come in and sit down before you fall down," He said hoarsely.

Dean's tear-streaked face looked up at the man who had raised him.

"Bobby … Bobby … it was the curse, wasn't it?" Dean croaked. "I loved her so goddamn much she had to die, didn't she?"

"Oh honey," Ellen said softly from behind Bobby. "Oh baby we had no idea when we cast the spell …"

Dean blinked. A cold feeling began to trickle down his spine. "S-spell? What … what are you talking about?"

Bobby slid his arm around Ellen's shoulders and they looked unhappily at Dean. The cold feeling burst and send icy tendrils throughout Dean's body.

"Oh god … tell me you didn't … damn it, Bobby! Tell me you — you're my _family_! You said family didn't end with blood … tell me you didn't …" Dean pleaded.

"Dean," Bobby tried. "It was only a push … a _nudge_ for both of you … the attraction was already there."

Ellen pressed her hand to her lips before saying, "We didn't — you wanted to be happy so badly, Dean. You … we didn't really think you two would love each other … "

Dean bit back a sob. "Yeah? Well, guess what? I did … and I want her back, fuck you!"

Pushing his way into the house, Dean went unerringly to the large book that Bobby kept on his desk. He pulled it to him, flipped it upside down and opened the section at the back where the more powerful and dangerous spells were written.

"You brought her into my life and you can damn well bring her back. I know you can … I know you can do it, I saw it after mom died … " Dean babbled as he flipped pages.

"Dean," Ellen said softly. "We don't do that … we _won't_ do that."

"But you _can_," Dean insisted. "You _can_ do it … fuck!" Dean leaned on the desk, tears staining the pages of the book. "I've _never_ asked you for anything … _never!"_

Bobby sighed. Dean was right … this was the first thing he'd ever asked for himself. But it was the one thing that neither Bobby nor Ellen could give him.

"Dean … boy, you know even if we did bring her back … it wouldn't be Cassie. It would be somethin' else … somethin' dark … and you know that," Bobby said softly.

Dean slammed his fist down on the desktop. "I don't give a fuck what she comes back as … as long as she comes _back!_" Dean cried. Tears raced down his face as he looked up at Ellen and Bobby. "Please … _please_ do this for me … _please_? _Please?_"

* * *

The day he moved back into Bobby and Ellen's, Dean stared at the house he'd grown up in, face impassive. The twins regarded him silently. Dean had the house he'd shared with Cassie up for sale. He couldn't go there without seeing her everywhere. It was too much.

"Don't get used to this guys … it's just until I get on my feet again," Dean said.

Caleb and Luke nodded, daddy's perfect little men. Dean sighed and pushed them toward the door where Ellen waited. Dean waited while they went in the house. He looked over at Bobby and then back to Ellen.

"My boys will _never_ do magic, understood? Ever."

Neither Ellen nor Bobby disagreed.

* * *

It had been weeks since the funeral and the move. Life went on but Dean didn't participate. He stayed in bed unless he _had _to get up. The boys got themselves ready for school and Bobby took them and picked them up daily. Ellen made sure they were fed and then they would say goodnight to Dean before trundling off to bed. He noticed ... sometimes.

The twins missed their mother fiercely but they refused to mourn their father as well. Every day they went to see him and make him eat. Every day they sat on the floor by the bed and told him about their day. Sometimes he interacted and sometimes he didn't — the latter was beginning to outnumber the former.

Today, Caleb went on one side of the bed and Luke on the other. Dean lay with the covers pulled over his head.

"Dad?" Caleb said.

"It's time for school," Luke said.

Caleb. "Dad?"

Luke. "Time for school … same as yesterday."

Caleb. "And the day before."

Luke. "And the day before that."

Caleb. "And the day before that."

Luke. "Out of bed sleepy head!"

Dean smiled at that one but didn't move.

"Dad … I'm kinda worried about Luke," Caleb said.

"You promised, Caleb!" Luke protested.

Caleb climbed on the bed and leaned against his dad's back. Conspiratorially, he whispered.

"He's been sneaking out at night and driving around town all night, liquored up! And naked!"

Dean bit his lip to keep from laughing. Caleb regarded the lump under the quilt that was his father. He climbed down and walked around to Luke's side.

"We'll see you later, daddy," Luke said.

Turning, the twins headed for the door. Dean surged out of the bed, grabbing both of his boys around the waist and pulling them back onto the bed with him. His heart felt like it might burst.

"Sorry you two … I'm just so … tired …" Dean said sleepily.

Caleb petted his father's hair. "It's ok, Daddy."

Luke ran his hand over Dean's beard. "You're scratchy."

"Yeah? Sorry 'bout that too, kid," Dean pressed a kiss to each boy's head. "Love you two, you know that?"

"We know." The twins answered together.

* * *

Later, Dean looked at the scar on his palm. "Sammy."

Eighteen hundred miles away, Sam Winchester held his hand up and studied the scar on his palm. "Dean."

Sam rolled over and yawned. He stretched and got out of bed only to feel a pair of strong arms wrap around his waist and pull him back down. He yelped in surprise.

"I was just thinking about you," A deep voice whispered against his ear.

"You're _always_ thinking about me," Sam teased.

Lucifer Milton had been at a party held by one of his firm's clients. Despite the unfortunate name, he was cultured and intelligent — it had taken him all of three dates to convince Sam to sleep with him.

Sam was drawn to his strong personality — people did what he told them to do. No one ever told him no. For whatever reason, Lucifer wanted Sam. All the time — it was hard for Sam to remember a day where his free time hadn't been completely taken up by Lucifer. Parties, sex, more parties — Sam wasn't even sure how much sleep he got these days. Nothing else seemed to matter whenever he was with Lucifer.

Until now, that is. Sam could feel Dean's pain as clearly as if he was in the room. His brother needed him.

"Mind if I go to the bathroom?" Sam joked.

"If you must," Lucifer said.

Sam pulled the tequila bottle out of his lover's hand and walked off to the bathroom. Once there, he sat down and pulled a small bottle out of his jeans pocket. Dropping a few burgundy colored grains into the tequila, he shook it lightly to mix it and smiled. Ellen had an extensive garden and she made any number of herbal concoctions from it. The grains were belladonna which in small doses created a sedative effect. Sam sighed. He might actually be able to walk out the damn door after Lucifer drank this.

Standing, Sam used the bathroom while studying himself in the mirror. He barely recognized the young man with the dark circles under his eyes and the haggard expression. He wondered if Dean would notice.

* * *

Sam lay down on the bed facing his brother. Dean's face looked tired and worn even in sleep.

"Dean?"

Dean opened his eyes slowly. He blinked, trying to believe his little brother was in front of him.

"Sammy?" Dean said hoarsely.

Sam didn't say anything. He looked at Dean's sad eyes which suddenly welled up. The broken sobs that filled the room were muffled when Sam gently pulled Dean against him.

* * *

"Lucifer?" Dean said, looking down from the bed at Sam who was sprawled on the floor in front of the room's fireplace. "Who the hell names their kid Lucifer?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "I _told_ you, Dean … his dad was a religious nut or something."

Dean chuckled. "Sounds like a keeper."

Sam rolled over on his back and flipped Dean off. "I knew you wouldn't get it … he's just … I don't know, Dean. He's really intense. When I'm with him, it's like — like I'm —"

"The only one in the room?" Dean asked quietly.

Sam turned his head to look at his brother. "Exactly."

Dean nodded. "Yeah, that's how I felt with Cassie … I mean, we _did _eventually stop trying to do each other on every available surface … guess you two lovebirds ain't made it that far."

Sam grinned. "It's wild the way he talks about us — he refers to our relationship in _centuries_. God, Dean, sometimes we stay up all night just —"

Dean waved his hand with a grimace. "Dude! I do _not_ need to know the details of your obviously very energetic love life!"

Sam laughed. "Thank god for Ellen's belladonna or I'd _never_ get any sleep."

Dean frowned. "When the hell did you start taking that stuff?"

Sam stared at the ceiling. "Not me, dork. I give it to Luc sometimes … not too often."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "So you're … _drugging_ your boyfriend to get a little shut-eye? That doesn't strike you as a little _odd_, Sammy?"

Sam looked over at Dean. "Maybe. But Dean … he's … he's really strong — I think he could …"

Dean nodded, not wanting to hear Sam's thought. His little brother thought that perhaps this Lucifer was strong enough to survive the curse. And who knew … maybe he was.

* * *

That night, sprawled out on the bed, Sam made shadow figures on the ceiling while talking.

"Dean, you know you'll never forgive yourself if you don't get out of this bed and take care of those boys," Sam said softly. He looked over to his brother who was looking up. "You don't want to do what dad did to us — give up and leave."

"I know Sammy. I know." Dean answered.

"Besides ... the bearded old man of the sea look? Not a good take for you."

Dean punched his brother none-too-gently in the shoulder.

* * *

The next morning, Sam was gone but Dean felt lighter and better than he had in weeks. It was time to start moving forward again. He looked at the scar on his palm and whispered. "Thanks, Sammy … love you, kid."


	3. Tempest & Tequila

Dean looked over the newly built office with a garage – his new business. It was a custom shop attached to Bobby's auto repair garage. It was something he'd talked about for years ... doing custom installs and other after -factory upgrades for people. He'd done a few and had a good response, he truly thought he could make a go of it. There was a paint bay too where Dean could do custom paint jobs. Bobby grinned at the new energy in Dean. Ever since Sam had come to visit, Dean still grieved Cassie but it wasn't the all-consuming anguish it had been. His sons definitely added to the smiles that broke free from Dean every now and again.

Just now, they were looking into the shop window making faces that Dean returned while Bobby rolled his eyes. Dean ducked behind the counter to finish putting away the basic office supplies he would need when he opened. He heard voices outside but it didn't click until he heard Bobby yell, "Caleb, no!"

Dean was up and moving before he even knew what was happening. The sight of the twins surrounded by children immediately brought back bad memories of his own. Caleb, ever the protector, was in front of Luke, trying to reach the main loud-mouth. Bobby had hold of his backpack but Caleb's arm came up with one finger pointing at the bully. Dean barely managed to grab his son's arm.

"Caleb ... don't!" Dean cried, pulling his son behind him.

The mother of the other boy had her son pulled back against her. Her face was a mask of fear and anger. "Really, your troublemaker started this."

Caleb pulled around his father and screamed, "I hope you get chickenpox!"

Dean would have laughed at the curse if his son's face hadn't been bright red with anger. He grabbed his son's hand as the rest of the crowd shrank away with fearful gasps. Dean groaned inwardly. "He was just kidding! Hey, come on ... he was just _kidding_."

"No he wasn't, dad," Luke said somberly.

Dean ran his hands over his face. "What the hell were you doing, Caleb? We don't cast and we sure as hell don't toy with people's lives! Don't you get it? This is not a game!"

The face that reminded him so much of Cassie looked at him, tear stained face full of anger. He remembered that anger – that feeling of impotence as not being able to do anything against those that hurt you.

"No, _you_ don't cast! And you probably couldn't even if you tried!" Caleb shouted.

Luke, the peacemaker, grabbed his brother's arm and began pulling him down the sidewalk to go home. Dean sighed, listening to the twins talking as they walked.

"He has all this power and he won't even use it!"

"Caleb, I think you really hurt dad's feelings."

Dean sighed and whispered after them. "I'm sorry guys ... I just _can't_."

* * *

Later that evening, Dean came in from smelling the jasmine in the garden. He paused, listening to the conversation from the living room.

"Uncle Bobby, Caleb says that any girl who marries us is gonna croak."

Ellen laughed. "Well, that's just crazy."

Bobby frowned. "Yeah? What about their grandparents?"

"Grandpa John died of a broken heart, didn't he?"

Bobby nodded solemnly.

"How could he do that?" Caleb asked. "Leave dad and Uncle Sam behind when they were just little boys?"

"Why won't dad ever talk about it?" Luke asked.

"Was dad any good at spells when he was little?" Caleb asked.

"How come daddy doesn't do spells now?" Luke asked.

Dean smiled to himself and decided to save Bobby and Ellen from the barrage of questions.

"What's goin' on in here?" Dean asked from the entryway that separated the living room from the kitchen.

Everyone looked up guiltily. Ellen smiled broadly. "Nothing. Just making toast."

Dean heard the toaster pop up behind him and he chuckled. He looked at his sons. "Homework done?" Matching nods. "Go brush your teeth, get ready for bed."

Dean watched the twins race up the stairs. Ellen and Bobby shared a look. Dean turned back to them.

"'Making toast'?" Dean teased. Ellen shrugged but then Dean's face became somber. "I want you to watch what you say to those little boys."

"We will, Dean ... "Ellen said softly.

Dean sighed and waved as he went upstairs to bed. Pulling out his laptop, Dean began to compose an email. He stared at the empty screen for a minute before typing.

_Sammy - _

_I feel so empty inside ... like there's a great big hole in me. It burns sometimes, the emptiness. I think if you put your ear to my chest, you'd hear the wind blowing. Circle around the moon tonight ... sign of trouble coming. Sammy ... is it wrong for me to wanna go to sleep every night and not __want__ so much? As much as I hate chick-flicks, the only way I can describe what I want is a love so deep that even time has gotta lie down and be still fucking still. I just wanna be loved, Sammy. I wanna be __seen__._

Dean shivered with a light breeze and turned around to blow lightly in the direction of the fireplace in his room. The kindling burst immediately into a gentle flame. He smiled. That trick had come in handy a few times with Cassie. Dean's smile faded and he sighed. Turning back to the keyboard, he finished his email.

_I don't know ... maybe I've had the only happiness I'm gonna get in this life. I don't want to believe it, but there isn't anyone else ... just that fucking moon._

Dean hit send and his phone began to ring in the same instant. He grabbed it up without looking at the caller id. "Sammy? What's wrong, kid?"

"D-dean?" Sam said hoarsely. "I-I – can you come get me?"

* * *

Dean got dressed and ran downstairs. Ellen and Bobby looked up. "Bobby, can you give me a ride to the airport? I gotta go get Sammy. Ellen, you mind watching the boys?"

"Go get Sam, the boys will be fine, Dean." Ellen said. "Bring him home."

* * *

Dean all but ran out of the taxi when it pulled up at a crappy motel. He banged on the office window until the clerk came and was 'convinced' to give Dean the key to the room that Sam and Lucifer were in. He quickly raced up the stairs and opened the door.

"Sammy?"

"Dean?"

Dean squinted in the darkened room and finally saw his little brother sitting on the floor, leaning against the bed. Dean quickly crouched in front of him, taking in the black eye and the split lip with no little anger.

"That son of a bitch!" Dean growled.

"Dean ... please ... I just wanna go home. Please?"

"Yeah, sure thing, Sammy. Let's go," Dean said.

It pained Dean to see his normally strong and vibrant little brother so cowed. He grabbed his duffel and started stuffing things into it while Sam dressed. Then he grabbed Sam and they headed out the door. Sam babbled as they walked.

"He's just been crazy, Dean ... we've been driving for two weeks straight. I have no idea where he's going ... he just ... he wouldn't let me sleep ... I couldn't take it anymore, Dean. I just couldn't."

"It's ok, Sammy ... I gotcha now. We'll get you home, ok?" Dean opened the door to the taxi, trying to pull Sam into the vehicle. He hit a wall when Sam froze in place, staring up at the sky.

"Dean ... " Sammy said in a small voice.

"Sammy, what ... " Dean looked up. "Oh, yeah ... blood on the moon, I know."

"Blood on the moon."

"I know, Sammy, come on."

"No ... no ... " Sam put his hand up to his neck and blinked. "No, the amulet ... the amulet ..."

"Sammy?"

"The gold amulet ... the one you let me borrow. Gotta find it ... gotta find it ..." Sam began to move frantically, looking around him and then he turned and stalked over to another car in the lot.

"Damn it, Sammy ... we'll get another one ... it -" Dean groaned and walked over to where his brother had disappeared into the car. "Sammy ... fuck it, we'll find it later in your bag probably. Come on, we gotta -"

Dean leaned down into the car and stared. A tall, dark blonde man with cold ice blue eyes sat with Sam pulled up back to chest against him. A gun was pressed against his little brother's temple. He smiled but there was no warmth in it. "Hello, Dean ... you drive."

* * *

Dean glared at the dark highway. Sam and Lucifer sat in the back seat. Lucifer had started on the tequila again. Dean thought he was going to lose his mind listening to the country music blaring from the speakers. Never mind Lucifer singing at the top of his lungs ... and seriously off-key. Lucifer handed the bottle up to Dean.

"You want some, Dean-o?"

Dean did not look away from the road. He did not say anything. He had to figure out how he was going to get himself and Sam out of this predicament. Lucifer was talking again and Dean realized he was speaking to him. He looked up disdainfully into the rear-view mirror.

"You know, Dean-o ... I should have been born a hundred years ago," Lucifer said slowly.

_That certainly would have made __my__ life easier, asshole, _Dean thought.

Lucifer smiled and lit up a cigarette. Dean had noticed Sam was smoking, something he would have never thought of his health-conscious brother. This Lucifer had dared lay hands on Sam and now he was slowly subverting the man Dean knew Sam to be – changing him into what Lucifer wanted.

"Back then, when a man had property, he was able to mark it as his own ... horse, cattle ... slave," Lucifer intoned. "He could put his mark on it – whatever it was – and everyone knew to leave it alone. Even wives ... they knew their place ... knew who they belonged to ..."

Dean frowned as he watched the man press the flame of his lighter against a large silver ring on one finger. The ring had a devil's horn pattern engraved on it. It had to be uncomfortable if not downright painful, Dean thought as he glanced up.

Lucifer kept talking in his annoying voice as Dean glanced up again. Sam suddenly seemed to lean forward and talk to Dean in the mirror's reflection.

"The belladonna is in my bag, Dean," Sam said.

Dean blinked. It had been a long time since he and Sam had played at mirror-talking. He registered what his little brother was saying and nodded. Sam eased back in the reflection. Lucifer never noticed a thing.

"I want to make sure your brother knows who he belongs to, you know?" Lucifer said with a cold grin.

Grabbing Sam's arm, Lucifer pushed up the short sleeve to reveal a pale expanse of skin. Sam cursed and began to fight, but Lucifer was, as Sam had explained to Dean, unusually strong. Dean, realizing what was about to happen, reached back with one arm to attempt to block Lucifer from branding his little brother.

"What the _ever-loving fuck_ do you think you're doing?!" Dean yelled.

The car careened wildly across the lanes of highway, startling Lucifer from his intent. He laughed loudly and both Sam and Dean heard the underlying insanity.

"Easy, easy, big brother! Don't get us all killed!" Lucifer said, falling back in the seat with a giggle. "You know boys? I'm kinda feelin' very into brothers right now ... what about it Dean? We could make us a Sammy sandwich!"

"It's _Sam_, asshole," Dean growled in return. Lucifer just chuckled and pulled Sam against him. The gun was never out of reach.

Dean was frantic. The man was completely out of his mind ... Dean exhaled sharply and reached back again, grabbing the bottle of tequila. He took a long swig to ease his growing nerves. Resting the bottle between his legs, Dean held his hand out beside him and the small bottle of belladonna worked its way out of the bag and flew into his fingers. Dean shakily opened it one-handed and poured the contents into the bottle. Flicking his hand over the bottle, the contents began to spin until everything was well-mixed. Dean smiled grimly.

_Shouldn't have messed with Sammy, fucker._

* * *

Later, Dean and Sam waited anxiously in the car on a deserted turnout behind a factory. Lucifer had taken the gun and the keys and was merrily singing some song while he pissed into the dirt. Sam was fretting and chewing on his thumbnail.

"Dean ... Dean, he should have been out by now ... you didn't give him enough."

"I emptied half the damn bottle in there, Sammy ... it'll be enough," Dean responded.

"Shit, what are we going to do, Dean?" Sam asked in the same small voice he'd used when he was scared as a kid.

"Easy, Sammy ... it's gonna be ok. I promise," Dean said softly.

Lucifer opened the passenger side door and crawled into the back seat. Sam looked unhappily at the man he'd once thought he was in love with – but now he couldn't see anything of that man. He wondered if it had been a trick to get him into bed ... into his influence. He smiled weakly.

"Hey, Luc ... come on ... stop this, huh? You wanted me scared, you got it. I'll stay with you ... promise ... just let Dean go, ok? Come on ... you know I love you," Sam whispered softly.

Dean felt bile rising as he heard his little brother pleading with a madman. Lucifer made a soft sound ... an almost tender sound. Dean wondered if Sam had gotten through.

"I only wanted you, Sam," Lucifer said quietly. "I wanted to be inside you ... completely ... like we were one ...don't you understand ...?"

Sam had been focused on Lucifer's growling voice which had always captivated him when he felt hands tightening around his neck and suddenly, he could no longer breath. His sharp wheezing breaths and sudden struggles alerted Dean who flew over the front seat, heedless of the gun. He wrapped one arm around Lucifer's throat and tightened his grip until he could feel the large man weakening. He would have kept on squeezing but Sam's voice suddenly broke through.

"Dean! Dean!" Sam said, slapping his brother's arm. "He's out ... he's out ..."

Dean let his air out in a whoosh and sagged on top of the limp body. He lay there until Sam grunted.

"Dean, get the hell off him and then get him off me ... I can't breathe," Sam protested.

Dean eased up and grabbed Lucifer's head by the hair and pulled back. When he did so, Sam drew in a shocked breath.

"Oh shit, Dean – I think he's dead!"


End file.
